


Evan Hansen

by ConnorProject2K17



Series: Dear Evan Hansen [2]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Gen, Oneshot, Panic Attacks, no relationships - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 13:48:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13168245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConnorProject2K17/pseuds/ConnorProject2K17
Summary: Just a short story inspired by one of my own panic attacks. The only character in this Evan.





	Evan Hansen

Evan ran through the deserted school corridors; the soles of his trainers slapping against the tiled floor, posters and billboards flying past him.

‘Oh-god-oh-god-oh-god-they’re-watching-me-everyone’s-staring-at-me-I-look-like-an-idiot- and-they’re-all-laughing-at-me-’ Evan’s mind raced as fast as his legs, coming up with worse and worse consequences from his outburst. 

‘The-teacher’s-going-to-yell-at-me-for-running-in-the-corridors-and-for-making-too-much- noise-and-for-disrupting-their-classes-and-i’m-going-to-be-taken-to-the-headmaster’s-office-and-expelled-and-i’ll-never-get-a-job-because-I-can’t-talk-to-people-and-’

Evan felt his breakfast churn in his stomach like a washing machine. His mum had left him £20 to order a pizza for dinner before she left for work. But, as per the norm, Evan couldn’t stomach the thought of making a phone call; stuttering through his order as the delivery man laughed at him on the other end. 

He’d skipped dinner entirely; his ‘breakfast’ had consisted of his anxiety pill and one bowl of cereal.

As he barrelled past a corner, Evan swore he heard angels sing as a door came into sight. His legs cramping into two fleshy knots of rope; white spots blotted his vision. The back of his eyes stung, and Evan hurriedly blinked the tears away. They blurred his eyesight, smudging the sign on the door as it grew temptingly closer. His heart leapt with joy (or nausea), and he grabbed the handle, ripping the door open and slammed it shut behind him.

He took deep breaths: in for five. Hold for four. Out for seven. He blinked his tears away, trying to clear out his hazy surroundings. He even held his stomach, trying to steady the tsunami of sickness washing over him. But nothing helped. The room still span, and his anxiety didn’t dissipate.

Vomit rose up his throat, and was plugged there like drain. Evan choked and hacked, spit dribbling down his chin. His mind was a mesh of white haze  and screaming.

‘You’re-so-pathetic-you-can’t-do-anything-it’s-the-first-day-of-school-and-now-everyone’s- going-to-know-you-as-the-loser-who-ran-out-of-his-first-class-and-your-attendance-is-ruined-and-’

Like the heavens had opened, a bright crack of light greeted him as Evan opened his eyes, lifting his head from is hands. His face was damp with tears.

A woman’s voice called out to him through his mental shrieking match.

“Evan? Are you okay? You had a panic attack in class, and ran away. It’s okay dear, just stand up and i’ll take you to the nurse’s office.”

Evan had been hiding in a closet.

 


End file.
